


Soundtrack to a Stereotypical, Cheesy High School Romance Movie

by apollos



Category: South Park
Genre: Consent, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Phone Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: Where the characters make out in a closet, there's no communication, and the lead male is troubled but charming and the lead female is a relatable everygirl with a few quirks. You know, the type of thing Kenny hates, but finds himself right in the middle of anyway.Or: Kenny takes a chance and redefines an important relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> as a writing exercise i like to put my music on shuffle (as if it's not already there) and do little ficlets for the first five songs that come up. but this took on a life and a plot of its own. see the end for these songs.

**1.**

Four A.M. and Kenny takes a chance.

Half-stoned in his boxers with his head under the pillow, he scrolls all the way to the bottom of his contacts in his shitty iPhone rip-off for _Wendy Testaburger._

And she answers. "What?" she says. Not _hello._ Not _why are you calling at four A.M. on a Wednesday in July?_ Kenny grins.

"Seeing what you're up to," Kenny says. His hand skirts the bottom of his stomach, stroking his own wisp of a happy trail.

"Sleeping, obviously." Wendy yawns. It's the angriest yawn he's ever heard. "What the fuck do you want, Kenny?"

His free hand is now peeling back the elastic band of his boxers, then letting them snap again his skin, then repeating the process. "You know what I want."

"We stopped that," Wendy says, and she almost sounds sad.

"We can start again," he whispers. He's the only one in the house, he thinks, but he's still whispering. Wendy is the type of girl that makes Kenny want to whisper.

Wendy is quiet on the line.

Kenny waits, patiently, stopping his boxer-snapping.

"Well," she says, "I can get sexual, too."

**2.**

"Bullshit is my favorite word," Kenny says, peeling the condom wrapper open. This is his idea of foreplay: waxing philosophical about swear words while he rolls a condom up his cock. He's seventeen; it's acceptable.

"Ugh," Wendy says, rolling her eyes to the back of her head. She's naked except for her bra, her socks, and a single Mary Jane shoe, which is a look Kenny can get—and is—very into. Just enough. Kenny himself is naked from head to hairy toe. "Just shut up, please."

"Never." Kenny smiles and, now properly protected, moves towards her.

He kisses Wendy before she can smile back. She hooks the leg of the foot with the Mary Jane around his back, digging the heel into his ass, which feels good enough to make him lurch towards her. She reaches between his legs, and—

Romance is boring.

**3.**

"I don't think I'm what you want me to be," Wendy says. Her hands are in her pockets, and her hair is collecting snow, and tears are freezing in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't want anything," Kenny says, which is a goddamn lie and always has been, because _want_ is the principle emotion Kenny feels, always. "I thought that was the point of this."

"Kenny," Wendy says. She makes a motion like she's going to approach him, then stops.

"We can keep it up," Kenny says. "Nobody knows." Nobody knows indeed—they're at their old elementary school, the second-to-last day of winter break, the last place anybody would ever want to be.

"That's not the _point_ ," Wendy says. Kenny is sure that it is.

"Then what is the point?" Kenny asks, trying to ask it poignantly, but it comes out as sad as anything else. The wind picks up around them, sending snow into their eyes, burning.

"Oh, Kenny."

"Kenny this, Kenny that," Kenny says. "Why don't you ever call me anything else?"

"What does that even _mean_?" Wendy asks, sadness draining from her eyes and replaced by a look of annoyance. Or maybe exhaustion. Kenny tells himself it's exhaustion, even though it's like, eleven in the morning and he himself had just woken up and walked over here at the prompt of her text.

"Whatever. Bye."

A flurry kicks up as he walks away from her. Fucking perfect.

**4.**

The next day, they don't see each other. A week from the four A.M. phone call, they still haven't seen each other. Kenny is getting antsy, wanting to seek her out.

"Chill, dude," Stan says, as Kenny passes him the pipe. "It was one-time phone sex, alright?"

"Did _you_ ever have phone sex with Wendy?"

"We broke up when we were thirteen."

"Still." Kenny glares at Stan. The warm and fluid arms of a weed high have not yet wrapped around Kenny, and he's feeling testy. "I don't think Wendy's that type of girl. It has to mean something."

"Didn't think she was the type of girl to hook up with you," Stan says, shrugging. "You'll see her in like a month, Kenny. _Chill_."

Kenny groans and flops backwards on his warn rug, throwing an arm over his eyes. He breathes in deeply, waiting for the high, kind of wanting to be dead, overcome with the usual extraterrestrial existential teenage angst of unrequired love muddled by confusing lust.

**5.**

"We should not be doing this," Wendy Testaburger says in a dusty janitor's closet.

"Well, we are, so get used to it."

"No, Kenny."

Kenny stops immediately, retracting his hands from Wendy's back as if he'd been cracked with a whip.

Wendy sighs and moves her hair from her face. They are suddenly too close, and it is too hot in this janitor's closet, even though they're both in t-shirts and jeans, and their shared breath and spit is making the air humid and it sort of smells weird, like mothballs and bleach and also Wendy's perfume. It's dark, too. It's like every show and movie Kenny has ever seen. But they were in the same first period study hall, and Wendy is an irresistible beacon at the best of times.

"What is it?" he asks, testing the waters, taking a chance.

And then she blurts it out: "I _love_ you, you idiot! I love you! I don't want casual sex! I thought—I thought—I don't know, I thought that you'd come around, or something." She turns her head away, and then mutters: "Instead of just coming _in_ me."

And Kenny bursts out laughing, because, well—that's the Wendy he loves, the one who says stupid snarky shit like that she's probably rehearsed in her vanity mirror framed with the Polaroids of her and Bebe and Nichole and Red and whoever else at summer bonfires and who reciprocates his lonely and drug-induced phone sex calls at four in the morning on hot July nights and who knows how to get a boy like Kenny, who is as fluid and fleeting as an elusive high, who is a dragon to be chased around the circumference of the earth, in a strategic position. That's the Wendy he goddamn, fucking loves, no bullshit, nothing, no strings attached, he had said, and now he understands what he had actually meant, a miracle unto itself.

"I _do_ love you," he says, grabbing for her arms.

"Prove it."

" _I_ called _you_ ," he says, pulling her close and pulling her shirt back down her back at the same time. "Why would I do that?"

"For a wank?"

"Please, Wendy, I know what porn is."

"To mess with my head?"

"Have I _ever_ done that?"

She pulls back and looks at him. He kisses her in between her furrowed brows.

"But I didn't do it for that," Kenny says. He runs a thumb over the area he's just kissed.

"Then—"

"Because I love you, and I missed you, and I wanted to hear your voice. And also, I'm very attracted to you." He touches the middle of her forehead—he's pretty sure he saw that in some anime Kyle forced him to watch, and that it was a very important gesture, but the satellite dish that brings thought to his brain has always been wonky at best and is now totally defunct by the positively scientific and shattering force of _Wendy_.

"You're _so_ charming," Wendy says, putting a hand over his.

"I know."

"You're not getting the last word."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not.

And before he can open his mouth to speak again, she slams hers against his.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - wow, i can get sexual too by say anything  
> 2 - romance is boring by los campesinos!  
> 3 - dogteeth by nicole dollanganger  
> 4 - e.t. by katy perry (lol)  
> 5 - whip by the city and horses


End file.
